


wide eyed (like we're in a crime scene)

by rippedgloves



Series: There's nothing but a play thing [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippedgloves/pseuds/rippedgloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Nick is his Eleanor, and maybe Harry is starting to feel whatever Louis feels when he’s with her, and complete isn’t the word, because Harry only ever feels complete when Louis is there, one hand safe on his back and the other deep in his curls –and maybe sometimes he only feels complete if they’re all together, the five of them, arms around each other and breathing on each other’s necks, but that’s a different type of completion, he thinks.<br/>So Nick doesn’t complete him, but he makes him happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wide eyed (like we're in a crime scene)

**Author's Note:**

> part two of the series is here!! ♥

_(i only bring the heat | company under covers | filling space in your sheets)_

_*_

It’s easier than Harry would have thought, the way they fall into a pattern. They’re still a bit awkward around each other, whenever they’re left alone, but honest to God, Harry can’t remember how they acted around each other before, how things were before it started.

Louis says they’ve always been like this, like silly twelve year olds that are too embarrassed to admit they like each other; he laughs at Harry, messes his curls up and presses a kiss to the top of his head before heading out to meet Eleanor.

And that’s the best development of them all, the way Louis reacted to it all. Because Harry knew—knows—that Louis would always try his best to make Harry happy, no matter what (that’s how this thing started in the first place, isn’t it?) but he never expected it to go this far. He’s always been jealous of Eleanor, despite how lovely she is to him (even given the circumstances) and how happy she makes Louis. It’s not like he—he’s not jealous because he wants to be Louis’  _boyfriend_ , not really. He’d like that, surely, because Louis is an ace boyfriend and an extremely dedicated one, and anyone would be lucky to have him, but it’s not that.

He’s jealous because he’s scared.

He’s scared that there’s someone else in Louis’ life, that Louis  _needs_  someone else in his life. He’s jealous because he doesn’t get it. Needing someone else.

He doesn’t, doesn’t need anyone when Louis is there, so it’s scary to think that Louis does. To think that  _he_ ’s not enough, that maybe he’s doing things wrong, that he isn’t pleasing Louis enough.

Nick doesn’t really change that, but maybe he does. It’s not like Harry  _needs_  him—not like he needs Louis, anyway, where there’s a hollow space in his chest if he moves too far away, where his hands twitch if they’re not touching Louis. He might not get panicky if he doesn’t talk to Nick all day, or if they spend a week apart, might not need to see Nick’s face in order to fall asleep or function properly early in the morning but.

But he wants him, and that’s new.

He wants Nick; wants to see him disheveled in the mornings and wants to make him breakfast in bed and take him out to a nice posh restaurant just to hear him complain about them. He wants to hold Nick’s hand when no one’s looking and he wants to kiss the stupid smirk off his face whenever he makes a joke about Harry’s hair.

So maybe Nick is his Eleanor, and maybe Harry is starting to feel whatever Louis feels when he’s with her, and complete isn’t the word, because Harry only ever feels complete when Louis is there, one hand safe on his back and the other deep in his curls –and maybe sometimes he only feels complete if they’re _all_  together, the five of them, arms around each other and breathing on each other’s necks, but that’s a different type of completion, he thinks. So Nick doesn’t complete him, but he makes him happy.

Harry can’t remember being this happy in months, and he’s living his dream, so it’s safe to say that as a rule he is a happy person.

So he and Nick are working out, and Harry thinks maybe part of it is that neither is too invested in the relationship, both of them too busy being in love with someone else –and Nick may still not admit to it, but Harry knows, can tell whenever Nick speaks about Mark or gets a text from him, or by the way he smiles when the two have gone out for drinks the night before. He and Nick are enjoying each other for as long as they can, and it works.

Louis is all for them being together, insisting on leaving them alone and suggesting that Harry goes out with Nick whenever he’s busy with Eleanor. And even when a part of him (the part that wasn’t scared to his bones that he would) wanted Louis to be a little bit jealous, wanted to feel wanted, to feel special, Harry thinks he likes the fact that Louis isn’t jealous even more.

Because Louis still marks him. He still leaves dark bruises over Harry’s hips from holding on too tight, or bite marks around his chest and collarbones, and always leaves tiny L’s written in pen around Harry’s body, hidden in places only someone who was looking could find.

So he isn’t jealous, and he is extremely supportive, but Louis is not giving up his position. He’s allowing Harry to do this, giving him permission to go so far, but never letting go of the fact that Harry is his. And that’s all Harry ever really wanted.

Nick is not allowed to leave marks on him. He can bite as long as it’s not too hard, but he can’t scratch Harry’s back or push him against a wall too hard that it’ll bruise. It’s not—they haven’t even gone as far so that it could happen, but Louis made it clear from the start.

“I own this little body,” he’d said, “He can borrow you if he wants, but he better return you unharmed. And  _unmarked_.”

It was weird telling Nick this, especially since they haven’t even had sex yet, but Nick’s good, and he understood. He’s been on radio and dealing with bombs being thrown at him long enough that he knows how to handle them, knows how to turn things around and make a joke and stop things for being awkward. So he laughed and made a pet joke and even texted Louis saying ‘ _like your toys shiny, don’t you?_ ’ and Harry was able to relax against him and not worry about it.

And it’s been two or three weeks since it started, and he and Nick still don’t always know how to act around each other when they’re alone, but they’ve mostly gotten over the initial weirdness that comes from having your best friend’s tongue in your mouth—and surprisingly enough, this never happened with Louis, but then again he and Louis don’t ever really fit the norm. But it’s good, they’re good.

Nick comes over not long after Louis has left, a bottle of wine under his arm and looking dashing in his skinniest jeans and light blue shirt, and Harry cooks dinner and they drink a little too much wine—and Harry always seems to drink more whenever he’s with Nick. It’s a lovely evening, and it isn’t much different to all the others they’ve spent together, but something feels different.

And maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s because they’ve been dancing around each other for so long, or maybe Louis has been spoiling him lately, letting him get off so often, but Harry is horny. He’s normally a touchy person, but he can’t seem to get his hands off Nick today.

“Watch it Styles, or your owner’s gonna get mad at me,” Nick says between sips of wine, batting Harry’s hands away from his chest, “Might have to get you a leash.”

Harry laughs and looks down and hopes Nick doesn’t notice the way his eyes light up at the mention, because Nick gets it but doesn’t get it; doesn’t understand what it does to Harry, what it means to him to be owned. To  _feel_  owned. He’d try to explain it— has tried in the past, after the initial talk with Nick, but the words mashed together in his throat and he couldn’t find a way to not make it sound perverted. And Nick nodded but he didn’t seem to fully understand it, and Harry decided that he’d keep certain aspects of his and Louis relationship to himself. Nick doesn’t need to know that Harry feels safest and happiest when he’s tied down at Louis’ feet, completely surrendered.

(Maybe he’ll ask Louis to get him a collar and a leash for his birthday. Maybe if he’s a good boy Louis will give it to him before that.)

(Harry likes being a good boy.)

His phone rings just as he’s leaning in again, trying to press his lips against Nick’s while Nick is trying to finish his dessert, and it’s Louis.

Harry almost panics, except that it’s Louis and there’s nothing about Louis that could ever make him uneasy or upset, so he breathes and picks up and as soon as he hears Louis’ voice he relaxes completely and forgets all about his irrational fears.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker, “How’s your date?”

“Slow. We haven’t even gotten our food yet; El’s getting cranky.”

Harry can hear Eleanor’s laugh from the other side of the speaker, and can’t help smiling, because it’s Louis who sounds annoyed by that, not Eleanor.

“How’s yours?” Louis asks then, “’S Nick behaving alright?”

“Good enough, I guess,” Harry jokes, looking over at Nick, who’s staring at him, curious.

“Listen, I got something for you.”

He tries not to let his excitement show on his face, because Nick is looking at him and he doesn’t want it to look like he’s more excited about his phone call than he is about Nick, but it’s kind of hard because Harry really, really,  _really_  loves presents. Especially if they’re from Louis.

“What is it?”

“Go to your room, yeah?” Louis indicates, and stays silent, waiting for Harry’s confirmation that he’s moving, “Are you there?”

Harry hums in response, a little too giddy and buzzing with excitement. Louis always gives the best presents.

“Alright. Open your first drawer, see that little black box there? Open it.”

It’s a bit tricky to do so, because it’s one of those boxes that slide one piece inside the other, and Harry’s hands are shaking a bit because he’s so exhilarated, so he takes him a moment.

His breath catches in his throat when he finally sees the content of it, and he assumes that someone else in his position would laugh but he just.

“Lou…” he murmurs, barely audible, staring down at the condoms and lube inside the box.

“Be a good boy, yeah?”

The thing is—the thing is, he and Louis don’t wear condoms. It’s not because they’re unsafe, they’re really not, but something about the intimacy of their relationship made it this way for them. (Harry likes it when Louis comes inside him, feels like the ultimate way to be marked, because no one else but him can tell, but Louis is always there with him.)

So they don’t wear condoms. Harry’s always safe when he hooks up with other people and he knows that Louis would never have unprotected sex with Eleanor, and they’ve both been tested so it’s okay. It’s another “ _them_ ” thing.

Which means that for Louis to be giving him this, to be calling him to tell him about it on this day,  when Nick is sitting at their table finishing the dessert that Louis helped Harry make for him. It just means a lot.

“I’m staying over at El’s tonight, yeah?” Louis whispers after a moment.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out, slightly overwhelmed by everything.

And he doesn’t think anyone else would get it, but this is it.  _This_  is what he needs. And his heart swells in his chest, almost making it hard to breathe, because Louis gets him better than anyone else. He understands what he needs and how he needs it and never fails to deliver it.

It’s the gestures like this that matter the most, Harry thinks. Because words never mean as much, and even if he and Louis never lie to each other, words can be partial, can be confusing. Harry likes orders and likes punishment and likes being told what to do. But sometimes that isn’t enough. Sometimes, like this time, he needs something more. A little extra assurance from Louis saying it’s ok, he can do this, he’s allowed.

It only makes Harry love Louis a bit more, really.

So the little black box is Louis giving him permission. It’s the ultimate way of telling Harry that it’s okay, that he can go through with it now, that Louis is okay with it.

And it’s a great confident boost—not that Harry ever really needs it, with all the fans constantly praising him and Louis relentless compliments—so he hangs up, and then calls again and tells Louis that he loves him, because they don’t say it nearly enough and sometimes Harry thinks he will throw up if he doesn’t get the words out.

Louis only says ‘good boy’ and hangs up, and texts him right after, first a ‘ _go get him_ ’ and then ‘ _no marking!_ ’ and finally ‘ _mine_ ’ and Harry leaves the room with the condoms and lube in his pocket (and it’s a tight fit) and the biggest smile on his face, thinking ‘yours’ over and over as he makes his way to Nick and throws himself at him, draping over his lap and kissing him full on the mouth.

 


End file.
